Edward Leer looked down at the six inch pistol, which was indeed pointed at his liver, and then looked up into the pale, baby face of the man holding the gun. The stranger's gaze was steady and unblinking. His smile did not waver. In his other hand he held a leather briefcase. Leer made a mental note not to open his door while drunk again; he did not enjoy the idea of being found dead dressed only in an undershirt and a dirty pair of pants.
"That ain't the first heater I've had pointed at me," he said, "And I don't take too kindly to threats. Why don't you put away the piece, and we'll see if we can settle this. Whatever this is."
The stranger's left eye twitched, "Very well." He slid the pistol back in the pocket of his trench coat and looked over Leer's shoulder into the cramped and filthy office. He drew a soft breath in through his teeth. "You first. Keep your hands where I can see them, and I'll do the same."
"Suits me." Leer walked back in and perched on the edge of his desk The blond stranger followed and then sat down in the worn out armchair facing the desk, placing the briefcase on his lap, and his palms flat on the top of the case.
"I'm all ears," Leer said.
"My name is Ernest Kemp. I am here on behalf of my client, David Thayer."
Leer nodded. "The hotel magnate. Owns the Idlewilde. I'm familiar. So what does one of the richest men in the city need with a two-bit private dick."
"Please, Mr. Leer. I've read your dossier. A silver star. A reputation for integrity and competence while you were with the Chicago PD. It's impressive. Even here you've developed a reputation amongst the right sort of people for professional excellence and, most important, discretion."
Leer watched Kemp as he looked around the office with thinly veiled revulsion and suppressed the impulse to toss him out on his ear. He lit a cigarette and mulled over the situation for the moment. Leer could think of no one who'd recommend his work to a society type like Thayer or any of Thayer's well payed minions. "OK, I'll bite," he said, "What's the case?"
"It is a sensitive matter, Mr. Leer. I need to be assured of your complete confidentiality before disclosing any of the particulars. In short, I need assurance that you are in our employ now."
"Mr. Kemp, you are testing my patience. I'll hear you out. If we can come to an agreement. Great. If not, I'll refer you to someone who can help. You don't stay working in this business with loose lips."
"That ain't the first heater I've had pointed at me," he said, "And I don't take too kindly to threats. Why don't you put away the piece, and we'll see if we can settle this. Whatever this is."
The stranger's left eye twitched, "Very well." He slid the pistol back in the pocket of his trench coat and looked over Leer's shoulder into the cramped and filthy office. He drew a soft breath in through his teeth. "You first. Keep your hands where I can see them, and I'll do the same."
"Suits me." Leer walked back in and perched on the edge of his desk The blond stranger followed and then sat down in the worn out armchair facing the desk, placing the briefcase on his lap, and his palms flat on the top of the case.
"I'm all ears," Leer said.
"My name is Ernest Kemp. I am here on behalf of my client, David Thayer."
Leer nodded. "The hotel magnate. Owns the Idlewilde. I'm familiar. So what does one of the richest men in the city need with a two-bit private dick."
"Please, Mr. Leer. I've read your dossier. A silver star. A reputation for integrity and competence while you were with the Chicago PD. It's impressive. Even here you've developed a reputation amongst the right sort of people for professional excellence and, most important, discretion."
Leer watched Kemp as he looked around the office with thinly veiled revulsion and suppressed the impulse to toss him out on his ear. He lit a cigarette and mulled over the situation for the moment. Leer could think of no one who'd recommend his work to a society type like Thayer or any of Thayer's well payed minions. "OK, I'll bite," he said, "What's the case?"
"It is a sensitive matter, Mr. Leer. I need to be assured of your complete confidentiality before disclosing any of the particulars. In short, I need assurance that you are in our employ now."
"Mr. Kemp, you are testing my patience. I'll hear you out. If we can come to an agreement. Great. If not, I'll refer you to someone who can help. You don't stay working in this business with loose lips."
If I had a gun, or knife pointed at my liver, I would be thinking about how I would step forward with my left foot, block with a stiff left down fist, pivot right, right elbow or right kick. But first I would try a joke.
ReplyDeleteThat's a fun alternative. Maybe I'll give something like it a shot. There's a real visceral appeal to the wiseguy man of action. What I can tell you from regrettable personal experience (I was mugged at gunpoint) is that talking one's way out of things tends to be a pretty primary response for some. The thought process was "How do I keep this jack@$$ from doing something stupid and accidentally making me a very holy person. (badum-bum) Thanks for reading!
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